re
granted that she was (as Lawrence insisted) manoeuvring for Colonel
Faversham, it seemed to follow that there must be less fear for Mark!
Perhaps, in some occult, subconscious way, this unbidden idea may have
quickened Carrissima's regard, and in any case she deprecated the
lonely birthday, forming a small benevolent scheme of her own for its
celebration. In the first place, she determined to send Bridget a
present, and then she would go to Golfney Place during the afternoon
and take her out to tea. A modest programme, but still better than
nothing.

On Tuesday afternoon Carrissima was, naturally, bound to Phoebe and
Victor, but during the morning she made her way to Donaldson's, the
jeweller's, in Old Bond Street, where her family had dealt for many
years. Lawrence went there for presents for his wife; Colonel
Faversham (who, to do him justice, was generous in this respect) never
went anywhere else at Christmas time or on Carrissima's birthday.

She had not by any means made up her mind what to buy, and, indeed, in
Carrissima's eyes shopping was always an elaborate rite. She stood for
a few minutes gazing in at the tempting window, and entering presently,
began to inspect various trays of rings and brooches, although she had
no intention to purchase anything of the kind. During the process Mr.
Donaldson, who had known her from childhood, came to the assistance of
the salesman and talked about the weather. At last a silver card-case
was selected.

"I wonder," said Carrissima, "whether it would be possible to have it
engraved by to-morrow morning."

"I think that can be managed," returned Mr. Donaldson.

"You might send it to Golfney Place with my card," suggested
Carrissima, taking one from her case.

"It shall be there quite early, madam," said the salesman, making a
note in a long, slim book.

At the moment Carrissima scarcely noticed the significance of the fact
that he appeared already to know the name of the recipient and the
number of her house. He had certainly written "Miss Rosser, 5----"
before Carrissima had time to give him the address!

"The initials are B----"

But he had scribbled "B. R." in his book while yet the sentence was
incomplete.

"How did you know?" she demanded eagerly.

"I beg your pardon, madam!" said the salesman, whilst Mr. Donaldson
drew watchfully nearer.

"You wrote down the initials before I told you what they were!" she
exclaimed.

"I think not," said Mr. Do